


Stories of the End (formerly titled:Life at Camp Chitaqua)

by Savain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Swearing, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2272527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savain/pseuds/Savain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses into the end-verse and the life of those who inhabit it.<br/>(These works will not follow any particular order, based on the end-verse but I will probably monkey around a bit with the cannon since it was a bit ambiguous any way. This will be Dean and Cas heavy, and probably angsty and grim as general tone though hopefully some odd dark humor. Will update tags and warning as needed. Rated E to be safe, but not explicit from the get go sorry for a misleading rating. Honestly don't know where this is going....)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cas takes a dip

The world condensed its self into a hydrocodone blurred landscape of maroon paisley comfort as Castiel stumbled into his cabin. He let out an unabashed moan of longing letting his eyes drink it in, just before falling into the bed, face down still dressed and smelling of a nights decadence. The black enclosed him in moments....bliss.  
The world gave a tremble and the velvet dark of sleep tried to expand outward in shocked outrage but the faded angel stubbornly grabbed the edges before they disintegrated.  
The world gave another tremble and slowly faded back into a semblance of consciousness, making Castiel burrow into the pillows chasing the fleeting oblivion. "Rise and shine Cas." A slightly hoarse voice said from the vicinity of his feet. This was surely the voice of the enemy and deserved only one reply....Castiel carefully bent his hand at the wrist and flipped the voice off muttering into the pillows a string of profanity that didn't truly even make sense to him, but had a sufficiently menacing tone to convey his displeasure.  
"Hey! Up and at em' hero, we got shit to do." Dean said with forceful annoyance.  
"What time is it ?" Castiel asked groggily as he lifted his head from the pillow. The hint of light coming through his eye lids was ambiguous.  
"About 45 minutes after sun up."  
"Oh...well that changes everything....because it's been a full 40 minutes since I went to sleep. Fuck off." He let his head fall back to the bed, hopeful he won.  
"Yeah..cause your the boss of me." Dean quipped then kicked the side of the bed harder. "How many times have I told you I don't care what you do as long as you function when it matters. Well, it fucking matters. Get your formerly feathered ass outta that bed, that's an order."  
Castiel rolled on to his back and gave a dry laugh. "And I told you I am not a soldier anymore, and you can take your orders and stick them up your ass...oh...sorry I forgot you don't do that kinda thing anymore."  
"That had better be what ever your fucked up on talking Cas." Dean cautioned.  
"Hahahahaha....Oh..and what if it's not?" Castiel propped him self up on his elbows leveling the full force of drug hazed blue eyes at Dean, his eye brows quirking upwards in curiosity.  
"That's it." The leader snarled and stormed the bed grabbing the smaller man by the lapels of his faded olive drab shirt and jerked him up and off the bed. He dropped him roughly, then before Castiel could find his footing snagged the back of his shirt and began half marching half dragging him out of the cabin.  
"Honey...You know I don't mind the rough stuff once in a while but this might be going a bit too far." There was a higher note of fear creeping into his voice now as he tried to keep pace and steady his eyes which seemed inclined to slosh about with the jerky handling. He caught flashes of camp members pausing in the start to the day surprised at the scene storming through the camp. Castiel's hand scrabbled at Dean's trying to get leverage to loosen his grip, Dean just tightened his hand making the collar dig into Castiel's throat a little bit. "Dean...really, this is gonna freak some people out."  
Dean kept silent and picked up the pace, ignoring a nervous Chuck who came rushing toward them. "Ummm...guys...everything ok?"  
Castiel tried to hold up one hand the universal gesture for Ok, and uttered a slightly strangled "Peachy."  
"Dean...really you should let Cas go. Settle this behind closed doors." The former profit tried to reason but was ignored just as thoroughly as before. He followed the pair down to the shore of the small lake, stopping there as Dean stomped up an almost comically rickety dock. His feet barely stopped at the edge when he heaved his captive over and into the cold water.  
"Why don't we have this conversation again after you sober the fuck up." He snarled then turned and walked away.  
"Uhhh...Dean? Cas- he..he can swim right?" Chuck asked concerned by the rather frantic splashing out in the water.  
Dean shrugged as he passed. "Ask me if I care?"


	2. Just....make it worth it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas knew, how could he not?

They made their way silently over to the building where one by one they were going to hoist them selves into the open window. Ressa was first and Castiel turned to Dean. They were the last two in the short line and in a moment it would be his turn, it was now or never.  
Dean did not even have the time to be surprised as the faded angel crashed into him. Cas pulled him close taking his mouth in a brutal kiss, tasting blood instantly where his lip was pinched savagely between their teeth before Dean's mouth opened to him a heartbeat later. The kiss was rough and delving as he did his best to drink his former lover down and pour every heated memory, every shred of jagged desire and love he had for him into the joining of their mouths as his tongue danced over the flavor that was Dean's kiss.   
He couldn't help the rough whimper that rolled itself into a growl of desire as need flared hot in his blood. He couldn't help that tears slipped down his cheeks and he couldn't help the way he leaned forward chasing Dean's kiss as it was pulled away too soon.   
"What the fuck Cas? Think now is really the time for this?" Dean snarled barely a whisper. The green of his eyes almost fully eclipsed by his pupils blown wide with the ferocity of sudden desire.   
Cas raised his hands to cup Dean's face, wetting his already kiss damped and swelling lips with a nervous flick of tongue. "No, but it's the only time I have left."  
"You know." Horror spread over his face making him blanch and the freckles Castiel had always loved stand out stark across his nose. The freckles he had painstakingly scattered over his face when he had reformed him so long ago. He had agonized over those damn freckles trying to get the exactly right as they had been before his death, feeling unworthy to touch such a beautiful work of art let alone be trusted to restore it. He loved those freckles. Dean had made jokes in their bed that Cas would count them if he let him. Castiel had never told him the truth, that he knew exactly how many there were, their number almost sacred to him. Dyeing didn't really scare him, bother him the thought that he would never see those damn freckles again, that terrified him.  
"Of course I do, Dean. I know you almost better then you do. Just....make it worth it. Don't hesitate, don't make a speech, don't try and reach for Sam cause he is not there, you get the shot you fucking take it."   
The man he had pulled from the pit had died five years ago when Castiel had brought him news of Sam's fall in detroit. He had loved the righteous man he had saved and secretly mourned him even as he learned to love and made love to this new being that was left in his place. But in that moment Castiel saw Dean as he had been, was meant to be, again in his eyes in that moment and that alone might be worth dying for. A tear rolled down Dean's cheek and the former angel brushed it with his thumb and brought it to his lips. It was just a hint of salt on his tongue.   
"Cas I-" He began but the faded angel cut him off with a quick brutal peck of a kiss.   
"I love you." Cas took a step back and glanced up at the window. The last of their party had already made it inside, he had to move. "Go."  
Dean's eyes went dead again and he gave a small nod before turning away to make his way around the building. "Goodbye Dean." Castiel turned and began making his way up ward to the open window and his fate.


	3. Information gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean using his techniques of persuasion on a black eyed demon. Warnings for torture, a little swearing.

It threw it's head back and laughed, rolling deep laughter that sounded both sarcastic and delighted at the same time. "Oh, this is going to be a lark." The demon said finally as it's laugh faded away and it leveled full black eyes on Dean. "Got to say though I am impressed by how tight your security is, warded sigiled cuffs, demon trap of iron inlaid into the floor. Consecrated ground surrounding this storm cellar. It's tight, it's sexy...it's just sooooooo Winchester. I know it wasn't made for the likes of little ol' me, but I have to say I pretty special to be 'invited' in all the same."

"Glad you approve." Dean said blandly leaning against the reinforced warded steel door. "You forgot the holy water sprinkler system though, in case of fire or just needing to melt a black eye in a hurry."

The demon smirked then shifted it's seat getting comfortable, if such a thing is possible when ones hands, arms, hips, thighs calved and ankles are chained to a solid wrought iron chair that weighed a almost 200 pounds. "So should we get on with this then? I mean if you really are committed to wasting the time resources and energy working over such a low level grunt as myself. I can save you a lot of time and effort....I don't know where that gun is, never laid eyes on it...I know where Lucifer is and I'll give you the location right now and wish you a speedy journey. Of course you're far to jaded a person to take my word for it but won't you just feel like a silly billy after you ply your trade and find out I was honest from the start."

Dean shrugged, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. "Oh I believe you. Lackeys like you are far to stupid, treacherous and fickle to be trusted with information on something as important as The Colt. As far as Lucifer's whereabouts, well it's not like the bastard is keeping a low profile at the moment is it?"

"Then what the fuck do you want with me?"

Dean pushed off the door and sauntered over to the table he had laid out with various implements of both sinister and seemingly innocent natures. "Well, that would just ruin the surprise. Besides, I find this works so much better if we get you nice and pliant first without the chance to concoct a bunch of bullshit lies that I'll then have to carve out of you, bit by agonizing bit just to get to the truth." He explained as he let his hands trail over a few of the most recognizable things, a glass flask of holy water, a collection of salt in different grind size ranging from a block to powder. 

"Then you best get started....if you have the balls for it. Word through the grapevine is since your favorite feather duster pulled you outta the pit you've gone soft and human again, all repentant and self flagellating over your years with Alastair, 'course you made an exception for him at the request of the angels. Though, I bet they didn't have to twist your arm much to get you on board with that. How many years had you just ached to full fill that little kinky dream?" The demon said with a slick, slightly shaming tone. 

Dean just smiled darkly as his hand settled on a pile of wooden splinters. "You ever heard of Palo Santo wood?"

 

It had been screaming since the start, though it took almost six hours for those screams to become howls of agony and despair and Dean never paused to ask a single question, prompt for one little tidbit of info he just kept methodically working his way through his collection of pain over and over in creative and diverse ways.

"Now this...well this is a new idea I had and honestly, have just been waiting for a chance to try out. See this?"Dean held up a saline bag. "This is your average run of the mill IV bag. There's salt in it, but not more then say tears have so that's not really much of a  threat, this does not become anything useful for what we're doing until I add this." Dean reached for an insulin syringe holding it up. "Holy water is like acid on the tissue of the damned, as you well know.... acid can be diluted and so can holy water. Just a tiny amount injected into this bag, a quick stick of a needle and you will have diluted holy acid slowly dripping into your veins....I am thinking a 1% mix should be a nice start. Too high a mix and I think it would just eat your veins, this way it's just gonna create a nice slow burn as it it travels through your meat suit. I can fiddle with the concentration as we go." Dean explained as he set down the bag and grabbed the IV needle he had set aside. "I imagine it's going to feel like your blood catching fire from the inside out. Don't worry though, all the years I've been patching people up I can plant an IV in one go...even if you didn't have veins a junky would kill for." 

If he had not completely closed down his ability to feel anything, Dean might have been impressed and violently ill at how effective his new trick turned out to be. 

Eight hours in and the demon was beginning to really talk, saying things other then the usual mix of oaths and curses. It began to talk around and through the scream, words and blood spat from it's mouth. It had to paused occasionally to spit out jagged shards of teeth which began to shatter under the pressure of clenching it's jaw through the worst of the onslaughts, but then would continue with the never ending flow of it's conscious mind being bared in hopes of appeasing it's captor with some obscure and unknowable bit of information it might have. 

Ten hours in and the demon was more wound then being. Splinters of sacred wood jutted from below the nails beds of it's meat suits fingernails, deep black pits littered its skin where the rock salt had just sat and burned through it's flesh.The first IV spot had eroded gradually and been moved three times, leaving long tracks of raw flesh where the fluid had flowed in and eaten away the veins and skin eventually. One eye missing the cavity packed with salt and slowly eating away at the left side of the demons face. The thing was little more then demonic hamburger loosely held together by sinew and tattered cloth. It's voice no longer able to raise above a whisper finally cried out something that made Dean pause. "If the angels don't claim the sword and Micheal doesn't come to face him Lucifer is going to take the earth, and force their hand....that's....it's...all of it....please....there's nothing else I can tell you....just fucking end me." 

"How's he going to do it?" Dean asked softly, sweetly in the things ear. 

"If I tell you....you..."

"End this? Oh yes. Once I have the details I'll take that nice sharp blade we got from one of your whore sisters and drive it strait into your suits heart....quick and easy, just a little flash and flicker and bye bye pain....bye bye demon." Dean drifted to stand in front of his mangled captive and crouched down to look into the demons one remaining eye, barley a sliver visible thorough the bruised, swollen lids. 

"Croatoan." The demon ground out with it's ruined voice.


End file.
